TITLE: THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY
GENRE: YA Contemporary
Background: Ava and Oliver, who had nothing in common but Oliver's girlfriend Malia, have slowly fallen in love over the summer. It's all kinds of wrong yet they also understand each other like no one else ever has. This kiss is the moment everything seems like it could be okay (of course it isn't).
"You have other friends?" he jokes.
I play-punch his arm even though I kinda-sorta don't. Sure, people like me. They think I'm fun. I cut class and drink and jump in pools in my bra and underwear. I'm entertainment.
"Does she know?" The question is gentle, like the way he touches a flower. Just enough so that I know he's asking about Mike. Or JT. Or both.
I shake my head. "No. Just you."
Then I close my eyes because it hurts too much that my only friend doesn't really know me and because I don't deserve friends anyways but most of all because Oliver is so close and I can't have him.
My eyes fly open when I feel his lips on mine.
His eyes are open too and we stare at each other, lips barely parted, breath paused.
Then our eyes snap shut and his arms wrap around me and oh, we're kissing.
I've kissed a dozen boys a dozen times but this kiss, this kiss is completely different. This is not about control or games. I'm helpless under this kiss, unable to do anything but part my lips and breath him in as the pieces of me I've kept under tight lock spill out all around us. His kiss is hesitant at first but as I melt into him the intensity turns up, until he presses into me so hard we tumble off the log. We land in the dirt and our kiss doesn't break.
The sun warms me and his body is heavy on mine and he smells like bar soap and laundry sheets and dry earth.
He tastes like strawberry jam.